


Plastic Hearts

by Peachy_Sunshineee



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Suicide Squad (2016), Suicide Squad (Comics)
Genre: Abuse, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Death, Depression, Emotional Manipulation, Escapism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Heartbreak, Prison, S&M, Sex, Sexism, Smut, Strong Female Characters, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27801031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peachy_Sunshineee/pseuds/Peachy_Sunshineee
Summary: Harley reflects on her life and tries to cope with depression during her stay at Bell Rave.💞My take on Harley's relationship with Joker. It's my first time writing something like this so please comment cause I'd love to get some feedback. I'm inspired by new52 suicide squad comics and hate for current DC writers 💞
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Plastic Hearts

The swing as swings do was swinging back and forth. The wood panels of the porch were creaking with each lazy move. The late-night August breeze was soothing. Not too hot, not too chilly. A hand playing with her hair stopped for a moment. She heard a yawn and felt the body beneath her head stretch. His back cracked and he quietly groaned. Then he returned to mindless play with her hair.  
It was quiet and peaceful, not the adjectives that one would use to describe her or her partner. With her head on his lap, she was almost as content as one could get. She was getting sleepy. Sometimes she felt that her body didn't know how to react to relax. When they were in the city there was almost no time for that. She felt as if she was on a verge of mental and physical exhaustion all the time and finally with no errand or heist to pull off on her mind she was finally shutting down. Even J usually tormented by his insomnia was almost rhythmically yawning, breathing slowly and regularly. It was so quiet. Only the swing was making noise. It was heaven. Her ugly heaven - an old wooden house in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the sea of wheat fields. Place where no one would find them: the police, Batman, or even their henchmen. It was theirs - she would like to see it that way. They had a few places like these "special hideouts". Sadly she was sure he had a few more he never told her about. It didn't anger her, just saddened a bit that he felt a need for a time out without her when she always felt so lost without him. But this moment was too perfect to be affected by her pessimism. They would be together forever as she liked to tease him. The mere thought of not loving him was just unbelievable for her. No other person mattered to her as much as him. He was her everything. Her lost dreams, her freedom, her object of unconditional love. They had their rough times but if it all came down to their time here and now …  
And now a loud banging on the bars woke her up from her fantasy. 'His' smell vanished, replaced by the awful smell of prison. Belle Rave was boring cold and sterile, definitely not worth opening her eyes anytime soon. She tries to catch the remains of her dream but it's all gone now the reality, too loud to ignore, the voices of guards too fucking annoying not to go hear. Her morning routine is quite simple. Not getting up for as long as she can. Her flimsy blanket - the only shield protecting her from the cold air in her grey cell. No windows, no real light. Depressing, yet she liked that her cell was so small. Made her feel secure and disappointed by her standards.

Harley still cocooned in her blanket sat at the edge of her bed. The left side was facing the gray wall and to it's right stood a metal nightstand. Inside it - her most precious possession: her diary. Of course, the safest place for your thoughts is your head, not an easily accessible diary but hey it was sorta therapeutic, and if she was to make it out of this hell hole she had to keep herself semi sane.  
Her existence at the moment was pathetic but it wasn't like she had many options for what to do with it. She heard steps on the corridor and soon enough the door of her cell opened.

"Rise and shine u demented bitch Move your ass Quinn I'm already late" Ahh so today Harry was her babysitter. He didn't seem to see her as a threat which was an asset. When Harry was around people he found dangerous he tended to get unnecessarily violent. It was quite fun to watch but she was glad she wasn't that person in his mind. She knew what he thought of her, most of the guards here were like an open book to her. She knew her appearance disturbed them as much as King Shark's ass which she found funny and flattering. Her white skin showed blue veins, that in a few places blossomed into purple bruises. Ones from rough treatment in Belle Rave or squad missions. 

She stood up, took 3 steps turned around, stuck out her hands behind, and was handcuffed. She hasn't brushed her teeth which bothered her nor did she peed which she knew would start to bother her in a few minutes. Barefoot she got out of her cell with Harry behind her firmly holding her. They started walking towards the cafeteria.  
It was so different from the one in Arkham. In the asylum, it was unthinkable to keep all inmates in one room especially when it came to activities like eating. But here no one cared if someone got stabbed or harmed in any way. Normal cutlery, none of that plastic shit.  
Maybe she just needed a little sugar to perk up her mood. She always stocked their fridge with all kinds of puddings for J just in case, if he got 'hangry'.  
The wide doors to the cafeteria opened up and the noise and smell hit her like a wave. Yelling, throwing food at each other or guards, a true heaven for the anarchists. Harry picked up the pace and quickly led her to the queue. She as always she ignored all the whistles and catcalling and focused on what she was getting. It wasn't gourmet food but at least it wasn't a grey mush. She wasn't allowed to have any caffeine or alcohol (order of that bitch Waller) that left her with a choice of room temperature tea or the delicacy of Louisiana's tap water. Guard took her tray filled with goodies. Two cinnamon rolls with icing dripping off them, a pile of bacon with one runny egg on top, and a symbolic orange for health. Harry led her to an empty table near the window - 'celebrity spot'. He released her right hand and attached the free end to the table. Half through her bacon plate and long past her cinnamon rolls she saw Digger approach. Beer in hand smug smile on his face. "That's going to be a fun day," she thought as she aggressively chewed her bacon and looked out the window.

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno where this story will take me. Hopefully someone will read it and if u are that person please leave a comment 💞  
> I hope u enjoyed it.


End file.
